


Diary Of A Fat Boy

by SinisterMind



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Eating Disorder, Mental Illness, OT4, Other, Stuff happens, sick, they're not really gay but ot4 anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 14:57:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5295638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinisterMind/pseuds/SinisterMind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dear Diary, <br/>I’m fat and that’s pretty much all you need to know about me <br/>Michael</p>
            </blockquote>





	Diary Of A Fat Boy

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
> THE WHOLE THING IS LIKE A TRIGGER WARNING!

Dear Diary,

This is how you’re supposed to start these things right? I don’t know what else to start it with because this is what you are, my diary. My diary that my therapist told me to use. He told me to write all my thoughts in here, the good and the bad. He said he won’t read it unless I want him to. What’s the point of this then? Oh well. 

I’m mad at Ashton and Calum and Luke for sending me to a therapist because of my weight and eating habits. It’s not my fault I’m fat, I’ve always been the chunky kid even when I was in kindergarten. 

And it’s not like I’ve tried to lose weight, I have, I swear. It just doesn’t work. 

I just realised I don’t know how to end these things either. Do I write ‘Love Michael’ or ‘Yours Sincerely, Michael’? I don’t know. I think I’ll just write my name.  
Michael

 

~

 

Dear Diary (I think I’m going to stick with that),

Apparently I was supposed to date these entries but nothing has happened except I’ve gained weight. 2 kilos to be precise. It’s not much but for me it’s a really bad thing. Anyway, this entry is 2 days after the last entry. 

I’m still mad at them. Especially Ashton because he had to physically drag me into the building and he kept yelling how I shouldn’t be at this weight. I’m really heavy in case you haven’t realised. 

I yelled back and then he eventually got me into the building. The building is such an ugly colour on the inside. Whoever painted it should be sued for doing such an awful job.   
I think I’m going to go work out with Calum at the gym. I need to lose some weight anyway. My pants feel really tight around my hips and the seams on my thighs are bursting at the stitches. 

Michael (I think I’m sticking with this too)

 

~

 

Dear Diary,

Luke came and lay in bed with me today. It was nice. He hasn’t done that for a long time. We just lay together for a long time. He put his hand on my stomach and it was probably one of the worst things to have ever happened to me. It jiggled. I could feel it. 

He spoke once and it was “this isn’t good, Mikey”

Michael

 

~

 

Dear Diary, 

I hate the way I look. Why aren’t I thin and lanky like Luke? Why aren’t I muscular like Ashton? Why aren’t I built up like Calum?

Michael

 

~

 

Dear Diary, 

I looked in the mirror today. I cried. 

I had to because I had to shave my face. The facial hair made my face look pudgier but even after I shaved I could still see my double chin as prominent as ever. 

My underwear are tight on me now. The fat spills over the sides and my tummy sticks out a lot. I look pregnant. My arms are really flabby too and stick uncomfortably against my sides. My thighs are fucking huge and are pressed against each other. No matter how far I spread my legs they are still together. My knees are touching too. So are my shins. 

Michael

 

~

 

Dear Diary, 

Ashton yelled at me again for my eating habits. He caught me stuffing my face when everyone else was asleep. I cried. He yelled again.

Michael

 

~

 

Dear Diary,

Fans approached me today. They looked really cautious. I would be to if I was in there spot. Ever since the tour ended, I’ve really let myself go. They didn’t even ask for a picture because I looked so disgusting.

Michael

 

~

 

Dear Diary,

I hate being obese.

Michael

 

~

 

Dear Diary, 

My therapist sent me to a doctor because of my weight. The doctor said I was killing myself with how big I am.

I’ve just realised I haven’t dated any of these but it’s been 3 months since the first entry. 

Michael

 

~

 

Dear Diary,

Calum came with me to therapy. 

He didn’t speak much. 

Neither did I. 

Calum cried. 

So did I.

Michael

 

~

 

Dear Diary, 

My clothes actually don’t fit anymore. There a size large and I don’t fucking fit into them. I tried an extra-large, it fits but only just. 

Michael

 

~

 

Dear Diary,

It’s been 6 months since I started this diary. Ashton doesn’t yell at me anymore. He tries to not even look at me if he can help it. 

We filmed something for the ARIA awards in Australia today. They say the camera adds 10 pounds. I don’t understand pounds so I googled it. Its 4 kilos. 

I watched the video playback and it looks like my size had tripled. I took up most of the couch and the others were all squashed against each other. 

Michael

 

~

 

Dear Diary,

My chest has been aching a lot lately. Especially when I walk up flights of stairs or something like that. 

I ignore it though.

Luke sometimes helps me if I’m struggling. 

Help the fat man. 

Michael

 

~

 

Calum watched as his best friend emerged from the bathroom. It was scary looking at Michael. He wasn’t healthy. 

His skin was yellowed and the hair on his arms and face had increased dramatically. His hair was thinning and brittle. 

They weren’t surprised to see bits of red hair all over their hotel room. He knew Michael had invested in extra – large clothing but it swallowed him whole. He could easily fit into a size small. 

The shirt was extremely baggy on Michael. The sleeves near his elbows, skin stretched over the sharp joints. 

The collar was wide and sunk down low enough so that you could see his collarbones. The collar wasn’t stretched it just looked like it because of how big it appeared on his body.   
His collarbones stuck out uncomfortably and Calum was afraid that it would pierce through the skin. 

He watched as Michael moved around the room. Tugging on the shirt to cover his body. He knows that Michael doesn’t see any of this. 

He remembers when Michael’s therapist told him that Michael was suffering from Anorexia Nervosa and severe Body Dysmorphic Disorder. He saw things no one else saw.   
They were all scared to look at Michael. He was a skeleton. 

Ashton walked in on Michael in the bathroom recently. Michael didn’t notice, he was too focused on what he was doing. 

Ashton told Calum and Luke that he could see every bump of the spine digging through his skin. How he could put both his fists in between his thighs and how his stomach was concaving dangerously. How he could see all 12 of Michael’s ribs and his hip bones protruding so far out that there was a gap between the band of his underwear and his stomach. 

They had a show soon. They were to perform one song and they watched as Michael steadied himself with his microphone stand in sound check. Luke watched as Michael adjusted his guitar strap and saw that the neck of the guitar was just a bit bigger than the width of Michael’s arm. 

“You okay?” Luke asked. Michaels head shot up at Luke’s voice and he nodded. 

“I just need to go to the gym more” he chuckled lightly not meeting Luke’s eyes. 

Luke watched Michael’s fingers which were once a little pudgy but were now thin and looked longer than they ever had before. They were like spider legs. Michael’s nails were gross looking, all weak and yellowed much like his skin. 

Everyone knew that Michael was a ticking time bomb. They could see it, their parents could see it, the fans could see it, friends could see it and strangers on the street could see it. It was only a matter of time before something drastic happened and they were all on edge. 

It was exactly a week after their performance when that something happened. It was when Michael was in the bathroom, looking at how fat he was in the mirror. He must have done something, had a panic attack perhaps, that put too much pressure on his heart. 

Ashton was the one to hear Michael first. It was silent and then these loud gasps and panicked breaths. Ashton immediately jiggled the door handle to find it was locked and cursed loudly. He yelled for Luke and Calum to help him get the door open and they came rushing to help. 

They could still hear loud gasps and a crash coming from the other side of the door. Calum was probably the strongest in the upper body area so he used all his body weight to try and get the door open. It didn’t work for the first couple of times but Luke could see the door was shifting each time and frantically told Calum to keep going. With a few more large shoves the door slammed open causing Calum to nearly topple over. 

A sight they never wanted to experience ever again. Michael was all wide eyed and disoriented as he lay on the ground, hands weakly grabbing at where his heart was located. The gasps were frantic and looked as if they caused him a great deal of pain. He was so thin, so skinny, there wasn’t a word beyond skinny that described Michael right now. Luke sniffed as Ashton called for an ambulance, he was scared, they were all scared. None of them knew just how painful it was for Michael, he looked like he was trying to rip his skin off to try and get to the pain. 

Ambulance sirens sounded and not even two minutes later the paramedics were in the bathroom with the four boys. They didn’t look twice at them, just set to work trying to help the boy fighting for his life on the floor. One of the paramedics lifted him onto the stretcher with them. It was as if the paramedic was lifting an infant as he was lifted off of the floor. He was too weak to hold his head up so when he was lifted, it fell back and he spluttered a few incoherent words. 

None of them were allowed in the ambulance, they found their driver and told them that they had to go to the hospital as soon as possible. It was as if time was in slow motion as they drove to the hospital, they seemed to get every red light and the only form of time going faster than normal was the actual clock. 

They arrived at the hospital and immediately rushed to the front desk, startling the poor secretary. They demanded what was happening to Michael and she calmly replied that he was in the intensive care unit. They weren’t allowed to see him.

They anxiously waited in the waiting room, watching as doctors and nurses came and went, wishing one was working on Michael. A male in a long white coat called out for anyone here for Michael Clifford. They nearly tripped each other as they rushed over to the doctor. 

He explained that Michael had experienced a cardiac arrest in the bathroom. That was enough to send them to tears and they cried even more when the doctor continued to say that he was alive. 

He said that Michael had a seizure in the ambulance and his heart completely stopped. They had to use electric shocks to get his heart beating again even if it was at a slower than average pace. When they reached the hospital they issued more electric shocks and injected him with tubes for nutrients, water and medicine. 

He continued to say that perhaps after Michael is more stable that they should think about rehab centres or admitting him into the ward of the hospital that focuses on eating disorders. 

They were allowed to see Michael after 3 days in the ICU, his vitals had gone up and his heart was at a steady rate. 

There were tears between the four of them. Lots of them. None of them wanted to let go of Michael, wanted to hold on to him as long as they could. They nearly lost him once and they didn’t want to lose him again. 

Michael was adamant that he needed to lose weight. Saying he was fat and he felt lazy and obese sitting here in bed with food literally being pumped into his body. He still couldn’t see what everyone else could see. They tried to convince him otherwise but all they received were shouts of protests and more tears. 

They ended up forcing him to stay in the eating disorder ward of the hospital until he knew how bad his body had become. After a week there, they were allowed to accompany him while he ate his lunch. After a month, he’d gained some weigh, not enough that he was at a healthy weight but enough none the less. After two months, he was allowed to go back ‘home’. 

It was hard, really hard. Sometimes they’d catch him doing push ups or sit ups in his room. Or throwing food away. But they were more open with communication. During Michael’s stay in the ward, he actually saw just how bad his body was. He admitted that he was sick and he was determined to get better. 

It took months, in fact it was February of 2016 when he was at a stable weight. He looked healthy, you couldn’t see his bones anymore. His skin looked healthier, he was still pale but he had always been pale. 

Michael had more confidence than he did before. He’d found a picture that his doctor took when he was first admitted and cringed at how bad he looked. He wasn’t fat at all, he looked dead. He ended up posting it on Instagram with a paragraph explaining what he went through. From his weight from when he collapsed to what happened in the ward. He knew that some of their fans were dealing with eating disorders and other mental illnesses and he hoped from what he had experienced that he could stop more people before something like this happened, or worse, they died. 

He re-read his diary. Getting teary eyed at each entry. 

It wasn’t a diary of a fat boy. 

It was a diary of a mentally ill boy.


End file.
